


Don't Blink

by LuciFern



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Arizona Coyotes | Phoenix Coyotes, Drama, Kidfic, Like, M/M, at all, because I made a comment to make someone sad but then had to write this, coming on way too fucking strong, daddy!Shane, it's not, named for a sappy country song, pathetic attempt at making it sad, son!louis, stupid but written as a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciFern/pseuds/LuciFern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane has trouble coping with his husband not being there for their son's first start in goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Blink

The moms were giving him worried looks, the coach was eyeing him like he was a bomb waiting to go off, and Shane could only suffer through it. It had taken a bit to understand, when it first happened, just why everyone looked at him that way, until he had heard his son talking about how he missed his Papa, and how Papa couldn’t come to the games anymore. Antoine and Marty still found it hilarious when people realized they’d been caught staring. Assholes. He didn't know why he put up with them, except he did. It was hard being a dad and the only parent of one of the kids out there. He just wished Mike could have been here to see it.

 

Louis was starting his first game in goal. Their son had wanted to be a goalie, "Just like Papa," for as long as he'd known the different positions to play. Mike was so proud, and a little smug that he hadn't wanted to play forward like his Dad, the day they'd taken him to get his first set of gear. They'd dealt with a lot of adversity since then, even before then, honestly, but he wouldn't trade any of it if it meant that his son wasn't here, tonight, making a name for himself.

 

Okay, that was overstating it. But Shane was seeing big things for Louis, doing the typical my kid is so gifted thing that all parents did, and he had every right. He had lived, breathed and dreamed hockey his entire life, his own father having played before him. He'd met Mike while playing minor league, and watched his cousins make it big in the NHL and international leagues. He'd been a Captain for most of his career, before he'd gone all domestic and shit, so he knew what he was talking about when he said Louis was good. Even if it was tinged with parental pride.

 

He just never knew that he'd be so emotional when it came time for his kid to grow up.

Antoine was making faces to one side, Marty looking between the two of them trying to decipher what, exactly, the Quebecois was trying to say. It was actually pretty funny, distracting Shane from missing his husband - and the game - and he had to laugh.

 

"He wants you to make sure I'm okay."

 

Marty huffed. "He could do it himself. Or make it more obvious what he wants, but maybe that's too hard for the French. Can't commit."

 

"Oh, tais-toi! I asked the last few times, he blows me off."

 

Shane leaned back, focusing back on the game as his friends continued to chirp each other and generally malign their respective cultures. The smile stayed, though, so he knew that neither the French-Canadian or the Czech would actually fight; they'd been working too much to keep him from dwelling on Mike's absence. They were good friends, even if the only thing they'd had in common at first was hockey. To be fair, though, hockey was still pretty much the only thing they had in common, but it was a great equalizer.

 

Louis was towering over the other kids on the ice, and his pads made him look even bigger, but it wasn't bulk that had him blocking the shots that came his way. The first period was over, the second half-way through, and he had caught or swept away each attempt. It reminded Shane of Mike's games, and he was hit with another wave of sadness that his husband wasn't there for such a big moment in their son's life.

 

He'd wondered, when they looked at adopting initially, how much he was willing to miss of their kid's childhood. It's why he retired from the game, finally used the degree he'd earned in his early days, and moved to reporting in the local paper. Mike, however, was a wandering soul, anxious if he stayed in one place too long. They'd compromised, agreed that the off-season would be travel time, but they'd do it together. When the possibility of them having a kid of their own became realer, Shane had worried that Mike was settling for something he didn't really want. He'd quickly been disabused of that notion when, during a fight over that very idea, Mike had asked if it was really him Shane was worried about wanting to leave, that Mike had been longing, more and more, for a time when he was settled in one place and having a kid to come home to felt more right than anything else had in his life - marrying Shane included.

 

The moms were giving him looks again, and Antoine was sitting with his head in his hands. "Stop moping, mon ami, Louis will think it's something wrong with his playing."

 

Which, okay, he had a point, Shane just sucked at schooling his features. Louis was desperate for approval of his game. He'd been excited for his first start for weeks, and it had been Shane's worst moment as a parent the night he'd heard Louis crying that his Papa wasn't going to be there to see it, worried his Dad wouldn't want to, which was the furthest thing from the truth.

 

"You're making faces again."

 

Marty winced as Shane pasted the fakest smile possible on his face, Antoine doing the same.

 

"Yes, okay, we get it. Put that thing away and be happy for your son. He just finished second period."

 

Second intermission brought with it Antoine and Marty's wives, small children in tow, and being cornered by one of the defense moms cornering him to commiserate.

 

"It's so hard to do it alone," she started, and Shane had to fight to keep from groaning in frustration. "You know I'm here if you ever need someone to... lean on, Shane."

 

Right, this was why he tried to avoid being alone, the lonely mom's club. For some reason they'd missed that when Mike had still be able to come to practice or games they'd sit glued shoulder to knee, holding hands and occasionally trading kisses. Or maybe they didn't care, thought he swung both ways, as it were.

 

"Yeah, I'll... keep that in mind." And so he made his escape, practically running back to the bleachers.

 

"You okay, Shane?" Marty looked ridiculous with his son trying to climb his head, but he appreciated the concern.

 

"No. Susan cornered me outside the bathroom. I think I could shower for hours and still feel those fake nails on me."

 

Both of his friends had had run-ins with her before, and shuddered in sympathy, before they were all absorbed in watching six-to-eight year olds swarm the ice, explaining to the kids too young to really understand what was going on. Lenka and Karen mostly left them to it, acting as buffer between them and the other families for the duration, for which Shane was thankful.

 

The game went much as it had earlier, Louis giving his all, and ended two to nothing, in favor of their team. Shane and the other parents waited impatiently for their kids, scooping them up in hugs or offering high-fives as they came out.

 

"You were great out there, buddy. Papa would be so proud of you." Shane was kneeling to the side of the hallway, Louis grinning in front of him. Both had damp eyes, missing the part of them that couldn't be there, and Shane had no problem pulling the boy close for a hug, resting their foreheads together as he pulled back.

 

"I wish he could have seen me, I practiced watching his games."

 

"I know, buddy. You tell him all about it tonight, okay?" At his son's nod, he asked, "You ready for ice cream?"

 

"Yeah!"

 

They met up with their friends at the parlor, and the rest of the day was fine. Really, it was. Until it was time to go see Mike.  Louis lost his good mood almost as soon as they got in the car, mood getting gloomier and gloomier as the miles closed between them and their destination.

 

"Dad?"

 

Shane glanced in the mirror, took in the sullen expression on his boy's face. "What is it, buddy?"

 

"I don't want to see Papa."

 

And that... that wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that their son wanted to punish Mike for not being there, in whatever way he could.

 

"Louis... It's not his fault he wasn't there. Just tell him about the game. You can sulk in your room if you want to after, but you're telling him."

 

He didn't know if it was the ice cream or the adrenaline crash causing the moodiness, but he didn't particularly care, either. So it was with a sigh that he parked the car and got the gear bag out of the back before letting Louis out, his own footsteps not much happier than those of the pouting seven year old in front of him.

 

The house smelled wonderful, and Shane could tell it was Louis' favorite even before he stepped into the kitchen to look. That didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was the six plus feet of curly haired man standing at the stove, instead of his mom. Instead of his mom, who was coming out of the back of the house and making happy noises at his son. It took him a bit to unstick his tongue and speak.

 

"What are you doing standing? You should be resting!"

 

Mike rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss him. "And hello to you, too, Shane. Oh, my appointment went great, got the all-clear for activity, and even got to the rink in time to catch the last half of the game, thanks for asking."

 

"Papa! You were at my game?!" Of course, that's when Louis noticed him. "I thought you missed it."

 

Mike set the spatula aside and knelt down gingerly, and Shane determined to ask him again, make sure he was fine to be moving around. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. My baby's first start?" He made a ridiculous face that had Shane and Louis laughing. "Now, tell me about the first half while your Dad sets the table."


End file.
